POTO: An adolecent infatuation
by Lindsey D. Perez
Summary: Phantome of the Opera, a long while before the fire and before Christine, when Erik was, the more or less, tender age of 19. It is a fanfiction with my own characters and is a cute little love story. Be ncie to me, its my first one.


**Phantom of the Opera an adolescent infatuation that happened prior to Christine, while the first managers of the Opera house, Monsiuer Debienne and Monsiuer Poligny, did not question the phantoms demands and abided by his rules.**

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**Chapter one: The Opera House**

The group of giddy young girls gathered around the grand doors in a huddle, chattering nervously to each other.

"Settle down, settle down, ladies!" came the sharp voice of their mentor, Madame Lienden."Get in line, pigeons, if you wish to get in."  
The girls did so slowly, shuffling their feet and murmuring to each other. Lienden nodded curtly and planted her hands on her hips.

"Now, are not permitted to wander around the opera house alone. Ever. It is vast and is easy to get lost in. Many previous schools have lost young ladies in the shadows before, so keep your toes in line!" she demanded.

Nervous titters erupted and some girls joined hands.

"We shall first take a tour of the house and then have a luncheon down at the park that way and afterwords, we shall met back here in which time we shall attend the show. Prior to that, you may do as you like. And if you wish to wander the Opera house, you must remain with a schfouer and in a group larger then 3. Am I understood?"

A chourus of 'Yes Madame Lienden' answered her and she nodded.

"Alright, pile in you lot."

Belle gripped her friends hand tightly in her own as they went through the doors into the famous opera house. Even this room was so grand. A high ceiling with figures of angles dancing around freely and famous origianl paintings decorated the wall alongside statues of tall angels that welcome the girls with a frozen smile.

"It's beautiful!"

"Isn't it?" came Belle's friend, Natille. "My Mother told me of how wonderful it is, but I could have never imagined this!"

"Welcome ladies, to the Paris Opera house." came a women voice, heavy in a French accent. She was a grave looking woman in faded gray dress with bags under her eyes and he brown hair pulled back into a tight knot at the back of her head. She looked out of place within the golden foyer.

"My name is Madame Giry and I direct the coriography." she announced.

In response there was a mumbler of approval of the girls and Madame Giry smiled tightly.

"Now, if you'll all follow me, we shall take tour of the house."

They did so, viewing the West wing and the East wing, the backstage where all the props were kept and people were rushing around doing things, too busy to mind the visiting class. And they ending in the dressing room, where they were all invited to attend rehersals before their luncheon but Madame Lienden politely refused.

"Thank you for joining us ladies, we look forward to performing for you all. Good day."

And then with a swish of the skirts, Madame Giry was gone and the girls slowly fell apart into their respectable groups of friends. Belle looked around the stage in wonder and Natille tugged on Belle's sleeve.

"Look, Belle!"

Belle followed her friends gaze and saw a handsome young man strolling the back stage with a stotic look up his face. His hair was thick and wavy and his face was artistic and his body was that of an equestrian. Belle was breath taken and heat flushed her cheeks.

"Oh my!" she breathed. "He's certainly handsome. Who is he?"

"I don't know." Natille shrugged. "But I do know that he's gorgeous!"

Belle gave her friend a sharp look.

"You should not say such things so candidly!" she scolded, glancing at the man nervously. "What if he heard you?"

"No point in denying the truth!" Natille said, grinning.

"Shame on you!" Belle tutted, but she was smiling. Natille flashed her friend a foxy smile and Belle sighed.

Her friend was very beautiful and if not beautiful then she was certainly pretty. She had a narrow face and deathly pale skin, dotted with freckles and huge green eyes that always seemed to be sparkling. And to contrast her pale skin was her fire red hair that Belle envied. Natille had to be the most attractive person she knew. It was obvious that Belle did not think highly of herself. She had a very simple look about her, nothing deep and fetching like Natille.

Belle had peach skin and dark brown hair that stopped at her shoulders and was almost as curly as Natille's but it lacked the lustrous shine in the light. She had a button nose and dramatic almond eyes and her lips were too red and full. The only thing she liked about herself was her eyes because they were a pretty color of honey brown.

Suddenly, a sharp rap on the floor brought Belle's attention off her appearance.

"Ladies, we shall now leave for our luncheon. We are already past schedule."

Belle and Natille got in the back of the line and were last to leave the dark stage. Belle turned and gave the mysterious, enchanting stage one last long look of desire before she allowed herself to be pulled from it.

* * *

**Chapter two: O.G.**

Dusk was creeping upon the girls from Lawson's Peabody Academy rather quickly. A bit too quickly. Everything was passing by in a blur and Belle sent a prayer up to God that he would slow time so she would be able to absorb everything more thoroughly. They were just coming back from the show and what a show it had been and with a happy ending to top it off. She was still in a daze from the whirl of color and the perfect synchronization of the ballet.

The whole house had been jam packed full of people and the girls were seated upon the balcony, farthest away from the stage but Belle and Natille had bought a pair of binoculars and they each looked out of one lens and it was just as good as the front row of seats, only the hem of La Carlotta's stage gown was not within reach.

"La Carlotta had such a powerful voice. It was marvelous!" gushed Natille for the umpteenth time. "Oh, I so want to met her!"

"Well, you can darling, because you paid for it." Came Madame Lienden's voice. "You may go back stage and congratulate her if you so wish."

Natiulle's eyes went bright.

"What? Really?! I can?"

"Yes. As long as you keep a schfouer~" at which point she made a great show of looking about the crowd for one of the officials, but finding none.

Natille felt her opportunity slipping away.

"Oh, I won't be long, Madame. I'll take Belle with me. We'll only be a moment." She pleaded with her green eyes alight. "Oh, please, Madame! Very quickly! We promise!"

Weary from the day's events, Madame Lienden collapsed under the pressure of her star pupil.

"Very well, Ms. Menuhin. Ms. Copper, you are to accompany her and never leave her side, is that understood?" eager nods from both the girls satisfied her well enough. "When you have finished you must be at the park."

Natille's probing eyes wearied her even more.

"May we stay here until we must board the trolley?"

"What?!" gasped Madame Lienden.

"Oh, please, Madame! I implore you! Nothing would make this trip more pleasurable then that!" begged Belle, clasping her hands to her chest and looking up at her teacher with big eyes. "This is all I ask of you!"

"You girls realize that whatever happens to you upon my watch is my responsibility and if any harm should befall your heads, it shall be me to pay the price? Do you understand that?!" she barked.

The girls nodded timidly, but pressed on, begging her, pleading, giving her cow eyes until she finally gave in.

"Fine! Do what you please! Just be there before the trolley leaves you behind!" she said exasperatedly, throwing her arms into the air for an extra effect. "Good day, ladies, until I see you again!"

She stomped away to flock the rest of the girls from the house and into the streets of Paris. Belle and Natille could hardly believe their good fortune. They looked at each other, each girl admiring the others skills.

"It was you that did her in!"

"But it was you that brought it up in the first place! Thank you!"

"Oh, I merely played my part! But you were fantastic!"

They girls went hand in hand down the house and they climbed onto the stage and went under the satin curtains and found there was chaos behind the still red sheets. People all around were raising glasses and giving cheers and staggering around and dancing drunkenly. Natille had to yank Belle away from the spectacle and towards a door that had the diva's name etched deep into the wood in fancy lettering.

"Here we go!"

Natille raised her hand and knocked on the door, three short raps. There was a moment before the door swung inward and revealed the pale woman in all her golden gown, gem encrusted glory. She truly was breath taking, especially up close.

"Yes, yes, what is it you want?" she asked, starring down at the girls with her big brown orbs.

Natille flushed red, suddenly lost for words. She was taking too long to answer, so Belle spoke for her.

"We just wanted to say that you were absolutely marvelous up there on the stage today. Your voice was so perfect and powerful, it filled my ears like never before. I applaud you, Madame, because you are truly exquisite." Belle said in the most flattering manner she could afford.

"Oh, my little _bambino_," Carlotta gushed and stooped down to pinch the flattering girls round cheeks hard between her spidery fingers. "Sweet, tell me your name."

"I am Belle Copper and this is my friend Natille Menuhin." Belle said, gesturing to a still speechless Natille. "We both had the deep honor of attending your show today."

At the words, 'your show' Carlotta gave a loud 'Oahu!' sound and clapped her hands together in what would seem to be delight.

"You are sweeter then the night air!"

Belle's heart lept to her chest at the sudden compliment and she flushed red and averted her eyes. It was then that Natille decided to finally speak.

"Madame," she began breathlessly, barely catching the prima dona's attentions, "you are beautiful."

Carlotta giggled; something that a woman her age should refrain from doing but she did it anyway.

"Both of your girls are from Lawson Peabooty, yes?"

Belle stifled a giggle at how she pronounced 'Peabody'.

"Yes, Madame."

"Oh, I would very much like you girls to come again to another of my shows! Would you like that, sweets?"

"Would we ever!" Natille cried, clasping her hands to her heart. "Oh, Madame! You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside!"

"Did you doubt it?" Carlotta harrumphed. "But of course I am _marvella _inside and out!"

Belle looked at the diva's face in mild surprise. She was conceited. Belle's nostrils flared a bit and Carlotta's flaw went unnoticed by Natille.

"Excuse me, but I'm going to go look around a bit more." Belle said quietly and she slipped away into the chaos of the back stage.

With gleaming eyes, she watched as the stage hands dancing around arms in arms, laughing gaily, having a jolly time, not minding a thing in the world. How she longed to join them in their dance. She yearned to jump in and lock arms with one of those men and swirl around in a blur and drink in the color of the dresses that swirled around. How she wished to be one of them!

"Excuse me, Madame. May I inquire as to why you are not accompanied by a schfouer?"

Belle jumped, startled out of her wits by the sudden voice. She turned and saw it was the man from earlier that Natille had called gorgeous.

"I… am here with my friend and we were just about to head to catch the trolley." She looked around frantically and to her horror, she found no flame red hair in the whirl of dancing people. Even near Carlotta's closed door, she was not there.

Where had she gone? What if she's lost? No, what if Belle was lost? What if Natille left to the park like a good girl and forgot all about Belle in her trance. It was surely possible. In her panic, she began to breathe hard and her eyes went wildly around, her heart sped up.

"She's gone!" she squeaked, clasping her hands to her chest in dismay. "She was here just a second ago! And now, I… I don't see her anywhere!"

A sudden loud scream pierced the air and all the action and music stopped all at once. People flocked to the source of the sound and Belle followed, wondering what was going on. She saw around the corner there was someone hanging from the ceiling, by the neck; a man in black pants with black boots sporting a dirty with top and with dirt hair that was matted with blood. It was dripping onto the floor in a small pool.

Belle's hand flew to her mouth in horror and she felt sick to her stomach.

"Oh, God…" she whispered, unable to believe her eyes. It was such an upsetting sight.

"He's done it again!" someone screamed in a panic. "It was him! You all know it was!"

"The Opera Ghost!" a girl shrieked.

Belle's throat closed.

"The opera ghost? There's no such thing as ghosts!" she had to say.

Someone heard her comment and pointed to the hanging man.

"How do you explain that, then?"

"It's a murder, yes, but not by a ghost!" Belle said firmly through her fear, ever logical. "Someone has done this to this man. Who wanted to kill him?"

"N…No one! Darcy was the goodest man amongst us! Why… Why did the ghost choose him?!"

"What's all this commotion about?" came an authoritive voice and someone pushed their way through the crowd and it was none other then Monsieur Debienne accompanied by Monsieur Poligny. One man covered his mouth in horror and the other looked away in disgust. Then, a little yellow piece of parchment floated down towards the floor and landed at Monsieur Poligny's feet. He picked it up and broke the red seal and began to read the letter out loud for all to hear.

"_Gentlemen,_

_You have not complied with my wishes. Therefore as I was silent before and only demanded 8000 fncs, I now demanded 10000 fncs and that box five be kept empty for my personal use. If you do not comply with these wishes, unexplainable horrors will take place around the beloved Paris Opera house that may put you management in jeopardy. Ergo, I advise you to comply, my instructions are clear._

_Your humble servant,_

_O.G._"

"Oh no…" came a gasp from someone.

Belle was all caught up in the mystery of it all. She knew there was no such thing as ghosts, so it must be a man. A man who had the uncanny power to spook an entire house full of working professionals out of their wits. A crafty man he must be. She would like to met the opera ghost and bust him. Just like in Sherlock Holmes.

**Chapter three: It's no ghost**

"Please, you don't know what you're doing!"

"You can count on me, sir! I can take charge! I have top marks in all assets of my test and I am very observitive."

"You are a child. You are a girl!" Poligny cried. "For heaven's sake! It is dangerous for someone of your tender age to be involved with a matter like this. I shall not have it. Please understand, dear, I am trying to keep you from danger."

"I was asking your permission, but I will find out! I will arrest the Opera ghost!" Belle said and she stood from her chair and left the room. She had a plan. She would solve this case. It was itching at her mind. As soon as she stepped onto the Paris streets she went to the barbers to get a haircut then went to a shop to buy some new clothes.

Little did Belle know that the opera ghost had listened to her every daring word. He scowled at her through the one sided mirror as she left. Little vixen didn't know who she was up against. But oh well. She was good as gone.

That is, until a boy came into the room and insisted he was a detective and wanted to work on this case. Apparently a girl on the street had asked him for his help since she could not do it by herself and he had decided to step in. The ghost glared at the boy. He would call out this boys bluff. Yes, he would. With a swish of his cape, he was gone back into his passage way.

* * *

"Don't go in there!" cried a ballerina who stepped in her way.

Belle put her arms akimbo hoping this girl did not recognize she was not a man.

"Why not?" she asked in a gruff voice.

"The ghost has been seen in this area more then anywhere else!"

"Oh, thank you. That's an excellent place to start." Belle said nodding her head at the girl before she roughly pushed the ballerina out of her path.

It was very eerie and there was no light, so she searched for a switch, which buzzed and flickered before coming to life and providing enough so she could see. The room had apparently been deserted since there was a layer of dust covering the room and there were unattended cobwebs along the wall and in the light fixtures where spiders were lurking. A chill went down her spine as she closed the door behind her and stepped deeper into the room.

The bed was unmade and the vanity had a couple of dried out roses strewn upon it. She looked around, snooped here and there. The man must have access to the house somehow. Maybe a secret passage way! Her heart lept to her throat and she began feeling the wall for some kind of indentation and throwing books off the shelves in search of a trigger. But she came up dry. She sat on the bed and dust arose from the mattress.

"I can't find anything!" she moaned, propping her head upon her palm and starring at the large mirror. She blinked. Strange… The mirror stretched from the ceiling straight to the floor. She got up from the bed with a creak and took one step for the mirror when the light went out with a pop. She gasped and was sent into darkness.

Fear gripped her but she insisted she not lose her head. She hated the dark. She put her hands out in front of her and took a few cautious steps forwards until she found satin fabric from one of the old forgotten dresses of previous years. She did not remember feeling this dress before, but she dismissed that fact and moved on. She moved her hand along the dress to the next fabric carefully and her hand found the wall. She groped for the light switched and as soon as she found it, a voice filled her ears.

"You think that you can come into my opera house and insult me?"

Belle's eyes widened. It was him! The ghost- no. The man! She tried the switch but no light came on and she gulped. Phantom or not, he still held the potential to kill and that gave her reason enough to want to flee but something held her back.

It was the voice. She was more curious then afraid, she decided.

"Who are you?" she asked slowly.

"I am the opera ghost!" it declared loudly, startling her.

She felt for the handle and jerked on it, but it was locked.

"Oh, bugger!" she cursed.

"You cannot get away now, monsieur. You will die here." Purred the voice.

She felt panic trying to take over. No! It won't end this way. She turned from the door to stare with wild eyes into the darkness. If she was already as good as dead, then what's the harm of trying to get away?

"Show yourself." She demanded bravely.

Her eyes were finally beginning to get used to the dark and she was able to see a faint light, hear a gentle swish and then she felt satin against her ankles. She caught her breath. That was the same fabric she had just laid hands on. That was actually the man?

"You are no ghost." She said, almost unbelieving. "You are a man!"

Hands went around her small neck, trying to kill her.

"You're going to kill me?" she gasped and her hands flew to the ones around her neck. They were wearing leather gloves and they were strong. Her hands went outward towards the man and she found his chest. She felt her way up to his own neck and she tightened her grip on him, surprising herself with her own strength.

"If I die… you die!"

The ghost growled with irritation and he forced the boy down onto the ground. The boy cried out as his head hit the ground with a sharp thud. The phantom shook the boys head, slamming it once, twice, three times into the ground. Belle was fading but she shook her head. She gathered all her strength and she pushed him off her with her knees and as soon as his gloved hands slipped away from her throat, she gasped greedily for air.

They glared at each other but Belle was weakened. She put her hands on the back of her head and found an alarming amount of blood there. She felt sick to her stomach.

"Ugh… you're a fiend!" she growled. "I won't… give up! You won't win…"

With a gasp she could see no more and drifted into unconsciousness. Meanwhile the phantom froze and starred at the body. Christ, it's been awhile since he's had to kill someone and deal with the body. He went over to him and kicked him. He didn't move. The phantom was satisfied that he was dead and he lugged the corpse over his shoulder.

"Dammit!" he cursed when he heard three short raps at the door.

He went through the glass door and slid it and locked it shut just as there was another knock on the dressing room door and someone opened it.

"Monsieur? Are you alright?"

The phantom glanced over his shoulder at the silhouette in the doorway on the other side of the mirror before making his way down the candle lit stairway to the boat that he would row to his abode by the lake.

**Chapter four: Vilkomen Buivenue; Welcome  
**

Belle stirred and a soft moan escaped her lips. Where was she? What happened? It all came back in a rush and she gasped. The phantom had almost killed her! He was tangible; she remembered putting her own hands around his neck and the satin fabric of his cloak… She was so disoriented…

She was in a dream-like state, half reality, half vision and she imagined foot steps coming towards her and she opened her eyes to see a wet looking brown ceiling above her. She looked to her right and saw black satin fabric. She reached out and grabbed it in her hands and used it to pull herself up. Suddenly, two hands went around her throat and her head slammed back into the ground. She cried out.

"St-stop!" she gasped. "Please! I didn't want to harm you! I just want to… ask you… some...thing!"

The hands let her go and she coughed and hacked and whipped her mouth. He had such a strong grip and she was so terrified. She looked up into his half white face with clear horror. She backed away from him a bit.

"I…I only wanted to ask you a few… questions, good sir." She said, slowly getting control over her tone and regaining her composure. "I would like to ask you something."

"I do not take kindly to intruders who question my authority." He ground out in a deep voice.

She flinched.

"I know." She said. "I've been one of your victims! Ha ha!"

She bit her lip. Now was probably not the correct time to be so docile.

"… Perhaps we can be chaps!" she suggested, forcing her tone to be light.

The ghost seemed to be getting impatient.

"Listen, please let me go back. I won't bother you again!" she promised, sounding like an honest man. "I respect your choice to hound money out of the opera house whenever you'd like but I'd just like to know how it all started."

"That is none of your business!" he cried and lunged at her.

She gasped and rolled out of the way and stumbled and got up and ran towards an organ on the far side of this...cave? He was right behind her. She tipped over a table to slow him down. She tipped over anything and everything she came across. She ran into a dark room where there was a black bed in the shape of a swan. He entered shortly after but she was on the other side. The room was circular so, he could not catch her around the swan bed.

"Well, you don't have to kill me!" she said as she ran opposite his direction.

"Dammit, you buffoon! You're in my abode, Without invitation! Ergo, I am aloud to call you a burglar and do what I will with you!" he shouted, trying to fake her.

"This is your home?" she said with a nervous smile. "It's very nice. You have marvelous taste!" she said but she doubted that flattery would get her anywhere far.

He grunted and suddenly jumped over the swan bed right in front of her. She cried out and tried to run around him but he tackled her onto the bed. The air whooshed out of her as his shoulder impacted with her stomach and they fell over onto the sheets. She tried to shove him off while gaining her breath back.

"Get off me! Just clam down a bit, we can talk this over!" she begged and she couldn't move.

His legs gripped her waist tightly and she couldn't turn and suddenly from inside his jacket he brought out a lasso that was sure to kill her. Her eyes widened.

"No!" she caught his hand from coming down any further. But the slip was so close all he had to do was gain a bit more length and she would be a goner. She suddenly was struck with an idea.

Barley able to hold his hands away, she sat up and caught him where he was most vulnerable; his lips. He froze as she kissed him with all her might, pushed with her head to get him farther away from her. Then, _she _got caught. It was a physical reaction.

This would be her first kiss after all and a kiss to save her life.

His lips were so soft, even if they were unmoving and she crushed her lips onto his. She let go of his hands which were suspended in action and she brought her hands to the back of his neck and she deepened the kiss. What a wonderful sensation it is. Her heart was fluttering like a wild bird waiting to get out and her blood was pumping so loudly in her ears.

He fell backwards suddenly and she let him go. He looked up at her with a repulsed look on his face. His mouth was suspended in horror and his visible eye was absolutely mortified. Her own eyes widened and she covered her mouth and flushed red.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know what I was thinking! Please don't kill me!" she said in a high rush.

Realization dawned on the ghost and his eyes got even wider.

"You're a woman!" he declared.

She gulped. He had figured her out. A glimmer of hope appeared. Perhaps he wouldn't kill her now that he knew she was a girl.

"I'm a girl." She corrected him.

"What the bloody hell possessed you to~" he paused and he chuckled and he stood up. "I see now. You're the little tramp that wanted to expose me and turn me into the authorities, correct?"

"Um… yes…" she said, sounding defeated.

He let out a short bark of laughter and she glared at him.

"I almost got you, too!" she cried in her defense. "You see, I faked being dead so you would bring me to your lair! Now I know where it is!" she lied quickly. That was sure to get him nervous.

He put away the lasso in his jacket and he snorted.

"No you don't. You were unconscious the whole time." He said, folding his arms across his chest.

Damn, she cursed. Thought I got him there… She noticed the way he was looking at her and she blushed.

"What?!" she growled, her heart beating in her chest. "Listen, I didn't know what else to do! You were going to murder me and that was the only thing I could think of to defend myself with."

The visible part of his face got considerably red with embarrassment. She starred at him in the eye and he looked away.

"…Yes, you did catch me off guard." He admitted.

She bit her lower lip. How terrible of her to do that! It was rash thinking. Why hadn't she just told him she was a girl? She smacked her hand into her forehead.

"Oh, I'm so silly." she hissed.

"Quiet silly." he agreed. "What am I supposed to do with you now?"

She looked up at the ghost and forced a smile.

"You could let me go?"

"Don't be ridiculous." he snorted as he turned away from her. "It would be easier to kill you."

She backed away from him cautiously but he made no move to attack her. She was glad he was no longer trying to kill her. He must have a heart towards girls then. Maybe he just didn't like to kill them for some reason.

"Um, phantom?" she called and stopped him from leaving her alone in the dark room on the swan bed, "May I ask you something?"

There was a tense moment of silence that was only filled by the sound of water lapping at a distant shore and then the phantom turned his white face to her to lay his piercing eye upon her and his mouth was pulled back in a violent sneer.

"No! You may not ask anything of me!" he snarled and she flinched and watched him walk away.

That voice had been so filled with deep hatred and malice, it cut into her and left her wounded. She wasn't sure if she'd ever face someone who was so bent on evil. She sat there on the bed for a few moments longer before she covered her face with her hands and muffled a sob.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

**Chapter five: It's a delightful game**

Belle allowed herself to fall asleep on the bed. She was too weak to resist it's down softness and it's silk embrace. She fell easily into a deep sleep but that voice stayed in her head, snarling at her. That same nasty tone he had used. He had thrown those words at her life a knife meant to kill her. She felt hopeless. The back of her head throbbed painfully and she let out a small whimper. She wasn't sure what was going to happen now.

Would the phantom kill her here? Would he dispose of her? Would he keep her a prisoner in his home?

She woke in the middle of the night to find herself trembling and holding herself. She sobbed quietly and whipped away tears. She shouldn't have been so foolish. It wasn't worth it. If she had known the real risks of what she was doing, would she still have done it? She bit her lower lip and held back a sob. She instead buried her face into the soft blankets around her.

Then, something touched her ear. She blinked. It was soft. She lifted her head a bit and strained her ears and she heard it again. It was that organ. The one she had run by in her blind fear, she recalled. It was being played. Very softly and sweetly, but played none the less.

She shifted on the bed to hear better and the notes came clear now. It was a beautiful and hypnotizing melody. She found herself rocking back and forth to it's tempo. She stopped herself. It must be the phantom who is playing. She felt awed suddenly. It was so wonderful. She found herself getting lost in the music as the notes carried her mind away from the dark cave where she was prisoner and out into the world where waterfalls cascaded over rocks and flowers released their soft petals into a summer breeze.

She blinked suddenly when it stopped and she slammed back into reality. She closed her eyes and lay back down onto the bed. She asked herself a few questions she did not expect answers to.

How could someone so vile and evil make such charming and swaying music?

Who was the Opera ghost?

Most important of all, if he hated her so much...

Why hadn't he simply killed her before?

* * *

She stirred from her deep sleep but she was still tired. She had forgotten where she was. She pushed herself onto her elbows and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked around and her eyes fell upon a figure in the door way. She starred at him.

"Um... good morning." she said unsurley.

"Good morning." came a deep voice that greeted her and the figure dipped its head a bit.

"Last night, I heard beautiful music... was that you playing?" she asked.

The figure nodded stiffly and she smiled warmly at it.

"Oh. You are marvelous. I was swept away by it." she said honestly, recalling her trance the previous night. "How long have you been playing?"

"As... far back as I dare to remember." came his smooth tenor.

"Oh." she said, sitting up cross legged. After a pause, "You have a lovely voice. Do you sing?"

"... On occasion." he answered, feeling a bit flattered at her out of the blue statement.

"Oh." she sighed as she starred at the figure, she wondered who he was. "Who are you?"

"I?" he was unsure how to answer that question. "I am a composer of sorts."

"I see." she said with a small smile. "Have you written symphonies before?"

"Not any worth mentioning."

He watched, amused at how the girl bounced up and down on the bed in excitement.

"You're being humble!" she accused. "Can I hear one?"

He caught himself giving a small smile at her eagerness and he drew back from her.

"No." he said flatly and with a swish of his cape, he was gone through the door.

This time, Belle got up and followed him into the room. Things were thrown about in a chaotic sort of manner and she recalled she had done that to all these beautiful things. She must remember to apologize to him.

"Phantom?" she paused. "What is your name?"

"My name?" he echoed, a ghost of something in his voice. He had not used his name for so long. Did he dare speak the accursed name that accompanied the face that had earned a mothers loathing? "My name is... Erik." he finally answered.

"What a lovely name." she complimented. "It suits you."

He shot her an angry glare.

"What do you mean by that?!" he hissed.

She shrugged, seemingly unaffected by his frightening nature.

"Isn't it Greek?"

"I don't know." he said quietly.

"So, your name is Erik? And you write music?"

He snapped.

"Why so many questions?!" he snarled and he turned on her with alarming speed and was standing a small distance from her.

"It's a delightful game." she said after briefly recovering.

"What is?" he growled.

"20 questions."

He blinked. He had never heard of such a game. Not that he would participate in ridicule follies like 'games' anyhow.

"I ask you 20 questions and try to figure out who you are by what answers you've given me." she explained. "I just want to get to know you."

"What for?" he asked, truly curious as to what made this girl more fascinated with him then afraid of him.

"I find you mysterious." she explained. "I want to know why this man who calls himself the ghost hides behind a mask and haunts the Opera Populaire."

Curiosity? No. Foolishness, he decided.

"Fine." he sighed, steeping down. "But mind yourself- Curiosity killed the rat."

"The rat?"

"The rat was curious to where the cat was going."

Belle gulped.


End file.
